One cold morning at the Apachieland saloon two men walked in and sat at the end of the bar to my right. One was a big fellow with wavy hair down to his shoulders, mustached and bearded---he looked like he’d seen better days. The other man was smaller, also bearded and mustached, and wore a bandanna on his head. I asked the big fella, ”What’s your name?” “Frank Kawaloski,” he smiled. “Are you guys with the film crew?” They nodded. I looked them over and said, “I hear the director is a Little Cesar and when he says jump, you ask how high?” The smaller man asked, “Do you want a shot of brandy in your coffee?” “Yes,” I replied, as it was freezing in the saloon. Frank asked if I was afraid, and I said, “NO! That guy better not try pushing me or…” and I raised my little fist and shook it. Frank looked at the smaller man and said, “Do you see that SAM? You better behave, or this little girl will part your hair!” “Really? I’m Sam Peckinpah.” We stared at each other for a bit then I said, “Gotta Go”, finished my coffee, jumped off the barstool, and skedaddled.
When the film crew started working in town, I was an extra. Every time I turned around, I caught him looking at me. Understand, although people said I looked like Doris Day, I didn’t think so. I always had a weight problem and I didn’t like myself. I didn’t understand what was happening, as all my emotions were going crazy. Why this man? Why did I have these strong feelings for this old grizzly guy? I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, my heart hammered, and my head hurt. I wanted to run but needed the money, so worked and tried to keep my distance.
The following day, Sam worked the crew from 8 AM to 3 AM. There was always tension on the set, but that night electricity was in the dry cold desert air. Sam looked at me and said, ”You walk by with that cowboy over there and be happy and gay.” “No, I’m tired, find somebody else.” Lucian Ballard looked at me pleadingly. “Ok”, I said, and picked a cowboy from our street shows, walked past the camera, turned, looked into the camera, and said, “Ha. Ha, Ha,” and kept walking. Sam softly said, “Cut… you, my dear are a rotten, rotten, Rotten actress!” “Do it again, Goddammit!” The second time I did do it perfectly.
The next morning up at the barn standing near a beautiful black horse, I looked down the street and watched Sam standing in the middle of the road giving orders to the crew. You’ve heard of road rage, well, I had horse rage. Before I knew it, I was up on that black horse leaning down his neck and said, “You see that man? He called me a rotten, rotten, rotten actress. Let’s kill ‘em.” I kicked that horse and we thundered down the road hell-bent for leather. Sam saw us coming, didn’t move a muscle, and just stood there. Luckily the horse was smarter than me, sidestepped at the last instant so that my leg hit Sam’s arm, and twisted him into the direction we were going.
Pulling up the horse, I looked back and saw Sam standing there looking at me with a Mona Lisa smirk on his face.
The story is emotional, funny, and sad…
The film ends with a mini-documentary...
"Best Feature Screenplay"
► Written by: Nancee LaFayette